


Time of Need

by emungere



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Online Dating, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 04:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11028912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emungere/pseuds/emungere
Summary: Hannibal and Will meet as teenagers in early 90s online chatrooms.





	1. Chapter 1

Will sat in the stuffy closet of a computer lab in his latest high school. His dad couldn’t pick him up until four, and his homeroom teacher had told him he could wait in here — the library was sealed off with tape and plastic sheeting for mold or asbestos or roaches or something. 

He ran through the typing tutor program for the third time and then decided he was probably safe from wandering teachers. He pulled up the chat window he’d had buried behind the typing tutor and an essay for history class. 

The conversation had died, and only a few people were still hanging around. Will knew some of them were in high school — or said they were — and he wondered if anyone else was sitting in a computer lab after school waiting for a parental pick-up, maybe somewhere on the other side of the world. 

hookline: who else is still at school?  
alecto: I am, permanently  
hookline: what did you do to get detention for eternity?  
alecto: Nothing, yet. My aunt and uncle have exiled me to boarding school.

Will stared at the screen for a second. Somehow boarding school seemed more alien than Australia or China. 

hookline: hmm…sounds like you did SOMETHING…  
alecto: It is fair to say I have been inconvenient for them.  
hookline: most kids are

Will knew his dad’s paycheck would go a lot further without him around. His dad would never say it and probably never even thought it — he knew his dad loved him — but it was just math. He couldn’t help knowing it. He tried to work when he could, but not that many places would hire him. It’d be easier next year when he turned 16 and could get his driver’s license. 

hookline: a/s/l?  
alecto: What?  
hookline: it means age/sex/location  
alecto: Oh. 16, male, Paris. And you?  
hookline: 15, m, georgia. paris france??  
alecto: Of course Paris, France.  
hookline: there’s a paris in illinois  
alecto: I’m sure there are many things in Illinois, but I am not one of them. 

Will smiled at that.

hookline: lucky you. i’ve been to paris il, it’s not that great. how’s the original?  
alecto: At the moment, rather dull. We’re meant to be asleep - lights out at 9 - and everyone else is.  
hookline: don’t get in trouble  
alecto: I never get in trouble. 

Will’s homeroom teacher, Mr. Moffat, stuck his head in through the door. “Will? I just saw your dad pull up out front. Get your stuff together.” 

“Sure, just let me save my essay,” Will said, typing quickly. 

hookline: gtg talk tomorrow?  
alecto: gtg?  
hookline: got to go!!  
alecto: I see. I’ll be here, yes. 

Will quit everything and shut down the computer for good measure. He grabbed his backpack and walked toward the main doors. Paris, France. He thought about telling his dad that he’d talked to someone on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, but no. At least for now, he’d rather keep this to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Will had been talking to Alecto every day after school for a week. Now it was Saturday. His dad was working. Will had cleaned the room they were staying in, which hadn’t taken long. He’d done his homework, so he could say yes when his dad asked him about it later. 

He was supposed to make something for dinner. His dad had left him some money for groceries, but he didn’t know what to get. He was pretty sick of mac and cheese and hot dogs, and he didn’t know how to cook much else. 

The couch groaned as he shifted, lying on his back and staring up at the water stain directly above him. He could go to the library and look up some actual recipes. 

They had computers at the library too. If he just took a few minutes to talk to Alecto, that wouldn’t hurt. He’d still be home in plenty of time. Maybe Alecto could tell him what to make for dinner. France was supposed to have good food. He wondered if school food was any better there. He hoped it was, since that was all Alecto got to eat. 

He was up and out the door before it occurred to him that maybe Alecto wouldn’t be online. It was Saturday and still pretty early there, not even dinner time. He was probably doing things with his friends. Will paused, one hand still on the doorknob and a sudden weight in his chest. 

He set out anyway and shuffled along hot sidewalks in smothering Georgia humidity, looking down at his sneakers. It wasn’t a big deal. He’d just gotten used to talking to Alecto, that was all. And he’d thought, once or twice, that when he and his dad moved on, he’d sort of be able to take Alecto with him. A friend he could keep. It’d only been a week, and that was probably a dumb thing to think, but he’d thought it anyway. 

It was late September, but summer wouldn’t let Georgia go. Will’s shirt stuck to his back in a big wet patch. The library was only about a mile from where they were staying, but he was hot enough when he got there to spend some time at the water fountain before he headed for one of the library’s two computers, tucked into a corner. 

A swamp cooler rumbled somewhere overhead. Will didn’t know who had thought that was a good idea in Georgia, but it didn’t make the air any cooler. It just gave the whole library a murky smell. Still, it was a whole lot better inside the big old stone building than out in the sun. He logged in, telling himself he didn’t expect to see Alecto’s name. But there it was. 

He got a message right away. 

alecto: I didn’t expect to see you today.   
hookline: i came to the library to look some stuff up. i didn’t think you’d be here either but i thought i’d check  
alecto: i was out earlier, but it’s raining and I’ve done my homework and finished my book and I’m bored. 

Will smiled. It kind of sounded like Alecto had been hoping he’d be online too. 

hookline: sounds like my day. i still have to make dinner though so i guess i shouldn’t be bored except this town is so boring. any ideas?   
alecto: for dinner? What do you have?   
hookline: nothing, but my dad gave me some money  
alecto: Can you cook?   
hookline: i can cook some stuff…   
alecto: How much “stuff” is “some”?   
hookline: :P i can make mac and cheese, and hot dogs, and pasta and uhhh  
hookline: okay most of the other stuff i can think of comes from a can, but i can follow a recipe. i made chicken and dumplings once and my dad said it was good   
alecto: What about beef stew?   
hookline: how do you make it? 

Alecto typed the whole recipe into chat as Will watched. It didn’t look too hard. He wasn’t sure he could get all that stuff with the money his dad had left, but maybe if he skipped the herbs and found the meat on sale. It’d be nice to have something new, and they could eat leftovers tomorrow and maybe even the day after. 

hookline: did you copy that from somewhere?  
alecto: No. I’ve made it often and I remember it well enough. I enjoy cooking.   
hookline: who taught you? your mom?   
alecto: My aunt’s cook, when I still lived with her. 

Will had never known anyone whose family had a cook. He’d guessed Alecto’s family must be pretty well off to send him to boarding school, but this sounded like more than just well off. 

hookline: your aunt doesn’t cook?   
Alecto: She does, but not often. It is not her passion. 

Will had also never known anyone his age who used the word passion seriously, but Alecto made it sound normal. Almost normal. 

hookline: is it your passion? 

From Will, on the other hand, it still sounded really weird. He looked at the words on the screen and chewed his lip. It seemed like a very long wait before he got an answer. 

alecto: I suppose it is, one of them.   
hookline: what are the others?   
alecto: What are yours? You already know one of mine. It’s your turn. 

Will thought for a while, hunched close to the screen. He hadn’t told anyone, not even his dad. But it seemed safe to tell Alecto. 

hookline: i want to be a cop, a detective. i want to catch murderers 

There was another long pause. 

alecto: For personal reasons or out of a desire to see justice served? 

Will chewed on his thumbnail and picked out the truth slowly with one finger. He felt a little guilty that he didn’t care about the justice part of it more, but he didn’t want to lie. 

hookline: I just think I’d be good at it. i’m good at figuring out things. and people. i guess that’s personal reasons   
alecto: Socrates believed that in an ideal society each man would do what he was most suited for. You’re lucky to know which profession will suit you.  
hookline: you don’t? i thought you’d have your whole life figured out  
alecto: Not yet. I have to settle my past before I can attend to my future  
alecto: I must go now, it’s time for dinner  
hookline: will you be around tomorrow?   
alecto: i don’t know  
alecto: no, perhaps monday  
alecto: goodbye  
hookline: bye

Alecto signed off. Will frowned at the screen for a minute before he signed off too. Alecto wasn’t usually so abrupt. Or so lowercase. But it was time for dinner there, and Will was probably being stupid and he should just — go find some stew meat. And stop worrying that he’d screwed up this friendship before it even really got started.


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal closed his laptop and shoved it to the end of his bed. He’d barely said anything, but it felt like a full confession of intent. 

I have to settle my past before I can attend to my future. 

He needed to find the man who had consumed his sister — and who had forced him to do the same — and kill him. In his mind, it was the most obvious thing in the world, and, most of the time, Hannibal lived in his mind. Intrusions from the outside world were rare and unwelcome. 

He shouldn’t have kept talking to Hookline for as long as he had. The relationship had seemed safe, separated as they were by geography and time. Hookline’s admission that he wanted to be a policeman, that he wanted to catch killers, had jarred loose that sense of safety. 

Sometimes Hannibal found it hard to remember that what he was contemplating was a crime. It felt just. It was just. But it was not a justice that he could share with the world, or even with one boy on the other side of the world. The truth always had consequences.

The chatrooms had been a bad idea and unlike him. The purpose of those places was connection and communication. He didn’t need to connect with anyone. He didn’t need to talk to anyone. He only needed to find his prey and eat him alive. 

He wouldn’t go back online. He wouldn’t talk to Hookline again. 

\\*

Monday night, Hannibal woke from a dream he knew well: the blizzard, the blood in the snow, the urgent need to scream a scream that would fill the world. He couldn’t make a sound. His voice was gone again as it had been for nearly a year afterward. His throat was so tight he could barely breathe. He grabbed his water glass from the bedside table and gulped it down, holding it tight in shaking hands. 

It was midnight. Hookline would be home from school by now, probably eating dinner with his father. Hannibal reached for his computer anyway. He’d settle for lurking in a chatroom the way he used to do. Just the reminder that a world outside his own head existed — he didn’t want to need that, but right now — well, he wanted it. Want wasn’t the same as need. It was fine. 

He logged on. Hookline opened a private chat with him almost immediately. Hannibal closed his eyes, fingertips rubbing over the keys. He could feel the tightness in his throat loosening, the ice breaking up. 

hookline: hey aren’t you supposed to be asleep?   
alecto: i was. i woke up  
hookline: bad dreams?   
alecto: What makes you say that?   
hookline: i dunno, i have a lot of them  
alecto: I don’t   
alecto: usually  
hookline: but you did tonight?   
alecto: yes  
hookline: you want to tell me about it? 

Hannibal stared at the bright screen in his dark room until his eyes ached. 

alecto: does that help?   
hookline: sometimes. it’s usually easier to go back to sleep if i tell my dad. it makes it seem less real   
alecto: what if it was real?   
hookline: like a memory?   
alecto: precisely like a memory   
hookline: i don’t usually dream about stuff that happened to me. was it really bad? 

Hannibal swallowed, cold rising up from his bare feet in the snow. He pulled the extra blanket from the foot of the bed around his shoulders. And he did what he had promised himself he wouldn’t do. 

alecto: My family was killed. Murdered.   
hookline: shit  
hookline: i mean sorry  
hookline: that’s why you live with your aunt and uncle?   
alecto: yes. My parents were both killed, and my younger sister 

There was a pause. Hannibal imagined Hookline trying to think of something to say. An impossible task. 

alecto: It was winter, at my family’s estate in Lithuania. It is a remote property. When a man arrived at our door claiming his car had broken down, my father invited him in  
alecto: He killed my parents first   
alecto: he kept my sister and I for a week  
alecto: and then he killed her as well  
alecto: and i escaped  
alecto: I walked to the nearest town. When the police went back to our house, the man was gone. They never found him. 

Another pause. Hannibal’s panic had calmed. His heartbeat was steady. He wondered if he ought to log off now. It was surely impolite to thrust his past on someone like this, let alone someone like Hookline, a year younger than he was himself and with no real experience of the world. 

hookline: you’re going to find him, aren’t you? 

Hannibal’s heart gave a single hard thump. Hooklike had warned him. He was good at figuring people out, he’d said. That appeared to be true. 

The cursor blinked, waiting. He should deny it. He typed out that denial twice and deleted it both times. 

alecto: Yes. I’m going to find him.   
hookline: i’ll help you 

Hannibal touched the words on the screen. He’d never even considered asking for help. He didn’t need it. And of course Hookline didn’t really know what he was offering to help do. Even so, Hannibal didn’t want to say no. He’d have to eventually, but not tonight. He wanted to say—

alecto: thank you


End file.
